


i sang and had blue eyes

by elijay



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ciri doesn't know he used to be Jaskier the bard or of his connection to Geralt, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, and Jaskier gets all sad about his witcheriness, and for some reason Jaskier is taking care of Ciri without Geralt, basically in this Jaskier is a witcher, guys the Witcher is amazing and i have ideas, hopefully i actually write some of them, or at least he used to be, small scene inspired by another story, that is now a word, that's sarcasm, you can tell this one's gonna be a happy one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijay/pseuds/elijay
Summary: A yellow-eyed witcher and a young orphan called Fiona talk.(Jaskier misses his blue eyes.)
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	i sang and had blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All the world I've seen before me passing by](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052019) by [brothebro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothebro/pseuds/brothebro). 



> this is heavily inspired by 'All the world I've seen before me passing by' by brothebro, which i'd highly recommend if you like Witcher!Jaskier. precisely, chapter 17 of it. the first line of my work here is a line of theirs. or at least the dialogue of the first line of my work is.

“Wasn’t always a witcher,” the yellowed-eyed witcher murmurs to her.

“You mean when you were young, right?” Ciri says, and then quickly adds, because to this witcher she is Fiona, an young orphan, and that is it, “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. Around. Taverns,” she waves her hand vaguely, “you know.”

“Yes,” he says, a wry note to his smooth voice, “I know.”

She blushes.

A moment later, he continues, because this witcher is more talkative than ~~Geralt~~ the last one she knew, “Yes, we’re made into witchers as children. But I was cursed, years and years ago.”

“Cursed?” She’s interested now.

“Cursed,” he repeats and stills for a long minute, bright, otherworldly eyes downcast. “My scars and senses were-” he starts, but halts, and then restarts, firmer in his words but not in his voice, “I had no scars or senses and so gave up my swords and the Path.”

She senses this is important, and so she is silent.

“I sang, and wrote, and travelled, and slept around and I wasn’t kicked out of inns into the freezing cold, like a witcher is, Fiona,” he says. He says, “I wasn’t a witcher,” like it’s a revelation, like it’s a wondrous thing, a precious, precious thing.

She thinks it might be.

The witcher looked up at her, then, and looked into her pale, pale eyes with his molten, molten ones. And then he says, like it’s a revelation, like it’s a wondrous thing, a precious, precious thing, “I had blue eyes.”


End file.
